Heat
by KissThis
Summary: Ianto Jones makes a sinfully delicious glass of raspberry iced tea. Just another summer day at the Hub. Borderline PWP.


**Completed:** 7/17/08 (5:22 PM)  
**Posted: **8/2/08 (2:45 PM)

_Title:_ Heat  
_Author:_ goldenwitch / KissThis  
_Rating_: R

_Summary:_ Ianto Jones makes a sinfully delicious glass of raspberry iced tea. Just another summer day at the Hub.

_Disclaimer:_ Torchwood is property of the BBC and RTD.  
_Spoilers:_ General Janto ones for 2x01.

_Characters:_ Jack/Ianto, Team

_A/N: _Inspired by the disgusting heat-wave that's been melting town for the past few days. Generally set after Jack's return; early S2. Went from drabble to epic smut.

* * *

It was unbearably hot.

Cardiff was in the middle of an epic heat wave and, as it sat on top of a rift in space and time, some of the team had started to wonder if maybe a temporal shift had occurred – trapping them in a singularly blistering July day forever. 'Round lunch, they'd actually convinced Gwen to ask – playing up her curiosity and newbie ignorance – but Jack had only scoffed and made a quip about her Welsh tendencies and the team was left to scavenge the remains of a half-gallon of Triple Berry Berry Fudge Swirl from the ice box; though, Tosh had been adamant about scratching out the expiration date without them seeing.

Everyone had their own way of coping with the heat wave; ways that were unique and yet comfortably specific to each person. Owen, not surprisingly, _bitched_ – to no one in particular and at great volume – the familiarity of which allowed the rest of the Hub to drown him out with moderate ease. Tosh put aside her translation program, still being remodulated after Owen's delve into sport, and spent a good hour trying to reformulate the obviously substandard air-cooling unit. Gwen spent an indecent amount of time storing the alien pod from the previous night's investigation in cryo, and when she finally emerged she smelled faintly of formaldehyde; a cool breeze trailing behind her for a few minutes that the others weren't so subtle about walking through.

Myfanwy, too, had taken to curling up in the trickling pool of water that tended to collect under the metal catwalks. The heat in the upper levels was stifling, so it was almost hard to imagine how badly it had gathered up around her nest so close to the ceiling. She keened occasionally until Ianto stopped by; pacifying the prehistoric creature with blocks of hard chocolate he kept in the freezer. Everyone else kept stopping to stick their hands in the cascades coming down the water tower or disappearing to the loo to cool their faces with a splash from the sinks.

Ianto couldn't even bring himself to make coffee – not that anyone would have been capable (or willing) to drink it. Instead he served up a round of gloriously cold raspberry iced tea – glasses leaving instantaneous rings of condensation the moment they were set down. Owen gulped his down in one go – without thanks – and Tosh pressed the chilled and dripping glass to her forehead with a sigh of relief. Gwen took a glass with her usual gap-toothed grin and started to reach for one for Jack, but Ianto had already turned away and was heading down the stairs towards Jack's office.

"Come in!" came the answer to Ianto's brisk knock, and the Welshman backed into the room, carefully balancing the silver tray in one hand. The room was muggy and stifling.

"Refreshment, sir?"

The witty retort – most likely heavy on the sexual innuendo – died in Jack's throat when he looked up from his paperwork and saw Ianto. _It was practically indecent_! The normally reserved and impeccably dressed Welshman had abandoned his suit coat – rolling the sleeves of his finely pressed shirt up to his elbows – leaving him in just the matching waistcoat. The crisp knot of his tie had been loosened and he'd undone the top button at his collar, exposing a slender triangle of pale skin at his throat. For half a moment Jack's mind went completely blank. Then Ianto was standing next to his desk, one eyebrow raised and tray extended so that Jack could take his drink.

"Where's my coffee?"

Ianto gave a little bow. "My apologies, sir. There was a slight problem."

Jack frowned. "The problem being?"

"I didn't make any."

"Cheeky."

Ianto, unable to hide his smirk, set the tray down on the desk as Jack stood up. "You know, I wasn't expecting insubordination when I hired you as my butler," he drawled – pointedly reminding him of their first meeting.

Ianto gave him that calm Gaelic shrug that meant everything and nothing at all, his shoulders rolling seductively under purple silk. "I blame the poor working conditions."

"Oh, really! Now you've got complaints," Jack teased. He moved towards him in a way that might have been subtle, if he wasn't so utterly predictable, and slid along the edge of the desk, easily invading Ianto's personal space. "I suppose there's a whole list, hm? Got it all written down?"

Ianto had to tilt his head to speak properly, now trapped between the chairs and Jack's body it was a challenge to keep their bodies from crossing that last millimeter of space and touching. "All complaints must be listed on a Formal Notification to the Admin report," Ianto murmured, all too aware of the heat radiating off of Jack's body. "Unfortunately, someone seems to have taken them all."

Jack's smirk was slow and wicked. "How strange," he breathed and his voice alone was enough to make Ianto shudder. Long fingers flitted across the waistband of his trousers before hooking in Ianto's belt and then he was pressed against Jack's body, one hand going out to catch hold of the desk before they both tipped backwards.

Ianto turned ever so slightly and the curve of his mouth ghosted over the hard lines of Jack's jaw. "I'll look into the matter right now, shall I?" he whispered, low and hot. Jack struggled not to groan, and when Ianto made move to pull away, Jack's painful grip held him close, fingers digging bruises into his hips.

Ianto laughed – airy and breathless against Jack's cheek. A tightening of fingers made him gasp and he had to fight not to bury his face in Jack's neck – to lick, bite, worship the tantalizing line of golden skin visible above his collar. Jack smelled _good_ – like spiced leather and sandalwood and sex. This close - it was intoxicating; Ianto swayed forward, unconsciously dipping his head to nuzzle the spot just below Jack's ear.

Jack's breath hitched in his throat; _he'd been caught_. "No need," Jack rasped into Ianto's shoulder. "All that paperwork..." And then he slipped his leg between Ianto's; his sharp intake of breath echoing in the humid air. Grinning into his lover's collar, his deft fingers worked at the back of Ianto's shirt – untucking it roughly, slipping under – and then a hot palm was burning at the base of Ianto's spine. "We can settle _everything_. Right here and now."

Ianto knew exactly what Jack wanted settled and though it probably needed to be done in triplicate, it was most certainly _not_ paperwork. Nails dug into his back and then Jack's free hand was suddenly on his arse and Ianto moaned. Definitely not paperwork.

His hand fell along Jack's side, stopping where his thumb could slip under the waistband of his trousers. He sighed against Jack's throat, nudging and nuzzling, licking his lips, but unable to pull the older man's attention away from his neck. Tightening his grip, he levered himself upwards, sliding along Jack's thigh with aching slowness, until their hips met and Jack hissed out a low curse into Ianto's cheek.

"Complaint number one..."

Jack's blue eyes were suddenly too close, his face flushed and tight as he stopped just sort of kissing him. Their mouths parted in anticipation, but neither closed the distance – the challenge hot with desire. "You've got to be joking,"growled Jack; his bottom lip grazed Ianto's as he spoke, causing the younger man's eyelids to flutter wantonly.

Ianto's tongue darted out to lick his lips and the hand on his back convulsed in time with Jack's ragged breath. "I never joke, sir."

Jack laughed. "But you _are _a tease," he affirmed, silencing whatever protest was coming with a burning kiss.

Ianto grappled with him, hands desperately fisting in his shirt, twisting around his braces, anything to pull himself closer. Jack twisted his hips, thrusting upwards as Ianto surged forward and the sudden, delicious friction rendered gasps from them both. And then they were diving for each other's mouths again – teeth clacking, noses knocking together as they fought for control and for contact. Ianto's frantic moans were nearly Jack's undoing as the Welshman all but climbed on top of him, rubbing against his thigh and knotting his fingers in his hair as he pushed forward, pushed back. Jack fell back onto the desk, throwing an arm out just in time to catch them; trinkets scattered across the surface, papers slid off in a wave of fluttering sound and something hit the floor and shattered.

Then Ianto sucked Jack's bottom lip between his teeth.

Jack's head hit the desk with a **crack! **He groaned, first in pain, then in pleasure, as Ianto rocked forward into him. Need consumed him and he scrambled back onto the desk, struggling to sit up even as Ianto kept pushing him back, his mouth branding burning kisses against his throat, hands scrabbling for any kind of purchase that could bring back that agonizing friction. Someone hit the lamp and it fell with a muted **thwump!** onto Jack's vacated chair, the dented shade casting odd shadows about the room, and then Jack was finally sitting on the edge of his desk and Ianto was half-way into his lap, one knee on the desk and the back of his shirt pulled up and near torn in Jack's wild attempts to drag him on top of him.

Their lips separated with an audible sound.

"We're out of biscuits."

It took Jack a second to remember how to speak. "Wha?" he managed – breathing hard and trying to reason out why the hell they'd stopped.

"That's complaint number one," Ianto said, his accent heavy with want. His fingers curled in Jack's hair and he shifted in a way that made the captain hiss sharply through his teeth.

"_Ianto..."_ His name – growled through kiss-bruised lips – was as much a warning as it was a plea.

He had to blink to keep focused – especially when they were both heaving with need and Jack was biting his lip to keep from throwing Ianto down on the desk and ravaging him properly. "Also," he murmured. "My dry-cleaning bills are becoming atrocious."

But Jack wasn't listening. He was watching the sweat drip from Ianto's temple – down over the curve of his jaw, into the hollow of his throat. Ianto must have noticed because he swallowed anxiously, nervously just before Jack leaned forward and licked the sweat from his neck. Ianto gasped something like "oh god" and then Jack's tongue was burning across his skin, dipping into the hollow of his throat as he sucked and nibbled and licked the tiny triangle of exposed flesh that had tormented him for so long. He struggled with the buttons, popping one off in his attempts to get at more bare skin, and Ianto had only begun to fumble with his tie when Jack found new territory to explore and latched onto his chest with such sudden intensity that the Welshman all but collapsed on top of him with a hot gasp of surprise.

A stack of books toppled off the desk, hitting the discarded serving tray with a **clang!** Then Ianto's hands were on Jack's chest, pushing him back and the older man let himself be pressed into the cool hardness of the desktop, eyes darkening with lust as he watched his disheveled lover climb up after him. More things were knocked out of the way, but his eyes were only for Ianto as the younger man kneeled over him, hands on either side of Jack's head and Jack grabbed him roughly by the tie, smirking as his mouth descended hot and demanding onto his.

Ianto angled his hips downwards and both nearly came then and there. It was hot and they were slick with sweat as their bodies slid against one another. The office was like a sauna, each ragged, sex-heated breath that left them hanging heavy in the room.

Then Ianto hummed – his lips still pressed tight against Jack's – and Jack was lost. Both hands went instantly to his lover's trousers and as his mouth was thoroughly ravaged – lips bruising, teeth biting – he fought to undo buckles and zips. It was Ianto's hands on his that finally stopped him, just short of tearing the damned trousers off him; Jack growled in frustration and Ianto kissed it away. The younger man twined their fingers together and pressed their hands to the desk, pulling back from Jack with a few more lingering kisses and sitting back on his heels. Their faces shone with sweat, their cheeks flushed from exertion – the ache for release and the oppressive heat both utterly unbearable.

And it was Ianto's slow, devious grin that made Jack suddenly wary.

"It's also _much_ too hot for sex."


End file.
